


Kara, Kara, Kara no Kara

by Makowo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mental Breakdown, Not Beta Read, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 08:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makowo/pseuds/Makowo
Summary: Sometimes it all piles up just a bit too much, and he just has to wonder on these days; how does he still manage to try?





	Kara, Kara, Kara no Kara

**Author's Note:**

> A friend gave me a prompt, and then i busted this lad out in like an hour or two. Sorry for not updating teras in a while, writing be haaaaarrrrddddd

The office is far too quiet. Much too... big. Much, much too big. The quiet is suffocating, filled with sounds he hates to hear. All of it way too much. Naegi finds himself craving an office smaller, more suited to current tastes, but really it would be a waste of time. He'd feel cooped up then. Cooped up like he was in this very academy so long ago the years feel like they meld together. In reality it was maybe five, perhaps six? It feels so much longer. He feels so much older than he is.

"Sorry." He chokes out another time, and another time does warm hands rub circles into the center of his back, just between his tensed shoulder-blades that shudder with each sob that spills from his trembling form. " 'm so sorry." His voice goes weak for a moment, then forced to rise again as thoughts barrel back to the lowest point they could be. It's like an intense rollercoaster, one of Naegi's fleeting, blurred thoughts point out. He goes up and up, happiness feeling as if it'll never end. Then in just a few moments he stands at the precipice of it, and he falls so much faster than he rose.

"It's okay, it's okay." A sweet voice murmurs in his ear, just above the sobs that wrack the headmaster's suddenly much younger-looking, much weaker form. "It's not your fault." She murmurs, and he almost wails again at that because it was! It was his fault, was it not? No! He is the one that let emotions get to him in such an important moment, he was the one that panicked upon a glimpse of **her** , the fleeting voice that just sounded a tad too similar to a girl he promised to help escape Hell, and he had done so in the worst way possible. Her music rang through headphones for a moment, just barely caught by his ears and oh g o d he felt like he had been stabbed by spears right then and there at the podium of the gymnasium, people in front of him blurred and all he could do was be led away right before he was forced to choke back a scream because he could s w e a r he saw hot pink soaking into his clothes for a moment. 

It is whispered by someone Makoto trusts, however. That is what saves him from spiraling down into a black hole he's been forced to escape again and again. Instability is something he has lived with for years upon years, and oh how tired he is of it. Tired of it all, of crying into the dead of night begging and pleading to whatever gods out there that it was all a dream. To wake up at his desk, and forget this terrible series of years he's been forced to live out.

It is when his wails turn to cries, cries turn to sobs, and those turn to whimpers that she speaks again. "Makoto." Ah, he suddenly recalls. She had still been talking during his periods of wails and cries and sobs, soothing him slowly until his mind would stop relentlessly shoving memories to the forefront of his thoughts that leave such a sickeningly bitter taste in his mouth. He must be thankful for one thing, and that is that he felt no anger. That he did not feel the need to scream and shout to let out this bundle of pain and agony in his golden little patchwork heart. Sometimes he feels like he wishes to kill, and he would say it were simply something thought out of anger were it not always so fleeting and frequent, quick like a knife slashed across the neck and repeated one too many times.

Naegi swallows, hiccups. "K-Kyoko..." Fatigue from his episode latches on quickly, numbing the far too heavy weight in his chest for moments he knows are fleeting. "I-I..." He settles for a sigh to finish whatever he started to speak, for his words were likely nothing of worth anyways. Another desperate apology would not bring either any more piece of mind.

"It was out of your control." She replies, reading him like the open book he is. Yet also closed, because sometimes she can't pry open the pages that stick together, can't put together pieces of paper that don't quite fit anymore. Once he was a freshly published novel, sitting upon the shelf opened to a random page for Kyoko and all others to gloss over as they wished. But now he is frayed, covering rough and paper held together with tape and desperation. "There is nothing to be done about it now."

Makoto feels that rising crave to argue. Blame himself, and tell her all the reasons why it was his fault because it was it was it was! If he were not so closely stuck to his heart, choosing right brain over left, then maybe he wouldn't be breaking down when he hears a recording of a voice like gentle flowing water, like a morning bird's chirps to greet the new morning. One he failed to protect and still feels the wound fresh in his gut to this day. But fatigue outweighs fighting spirit this time, and maybe that's for the best. "Okay."

She smiles softly. It is one of pity, Naegi notices. The flash of it in her cool lavender eyes before it too is hidden away behind her stone mask. He abhors looks of pity, he had realized such in his years working for Future Foundation.(ah, them. just another cause to his trauma, something he craves to forget. but he cannot, for who can forget awakening to the sight of dulled red eyes swirling to a stop with a dagger dug into their throat? if someone could help him forget, oh he'd pay so much for the solution to his woes) The days when he would be given looks as he passed others in the halls. He recalls snapping at them once or twice, sharp glares with a throaty growl like rolling thunder under his voice. He was very protective then, making sure his friends sticked close to one another and he sticked closer, for there was safety when with those you trust with your life.

"Do you want to go home?" Home. His crumbled mind latches onto the word, holding it close. Before he can even think to respond he nods vigorously, wiping away tears straggling from his wordless venting. 'Yeah.' Is on the tip of his tongue, but turns to ash before he can speak it. He takes a deep breath, and then another. Once more, then again before he can stumble to his feet from the desk chair. His mind is much too hazed, legs quivering under him, but Kyoko is quick to dart to his side and take his delicate hand. "Careful." She warns pointlessly. It's the thought that counts however, Makoto thinks.

"It's a pretty day outside, isn't it?" Kyoko comments with a voice of lavender and oh. They're out at the car now. He hadn't noticed he had started walking until he's stopped, the married couple staring up at the sky. It is, Naegi thinks. A single bird flies overhead in the cloudless blue sky, then five more. Shadows flitting over them before sunshine hits their skin, warmth welcome for a moment before it's not. 

"Yeah." Naegi smiles as they climb into the car and leave the academy behind for the day. "Yeah, it's a nice day today."


End file.
